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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851141">Look what happened to my good intentions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncyballblue/pseuds/Dale'>Dale (Bouncyballblue)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - SlaveTale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Incomplete, Sans hates reader more than usual, SlaveTale, Underfell, Underfell Sans (Undertale), if that's even possible, no sexual abuse or torture, reader is pretty much just me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:41:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,842</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncyballblue/pseuds/Dale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a monster-sympathizer who has just rescued a skeleton monster (UF Sans) from his abusive owner. Unfortunately for the both of you, the man left before transferring ownership and the skeleton is frozen in place from the last command.<br/>(Based on the premise of "Slavetale" by V_mum)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370509">SlaveTale</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_mum/pseuds/V_mum">V_mum</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was having fun imagining what I would do if I were the reader in "Slavetale" by V_mum and ended up with enough to write down. It's set on the surface of an Underfell world where Frisk either never existed or didn't have time powers, and Asgore used the seventh fallen human to break the barrier and declare war on humanity. I didn't initially intend to change that part of the story but to me it makes more sense that humans would enslave a bunch of evil, murdery monsters than if a bunch of friendly monsters showed up wanting to make friends and we went all "Black Mirror" on them for no reason.</p><p>This is probably the only Slavetale fic that's supposed to be funny and not depressingly grim. There are some sad parts but there won't be any gratuitous violence, self-harm, or sexual abuse- Sans deals with enough of that fuckery in this fandom already. The setup is heavily based on the original <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370509/">”Slavetale” story by V_mum,</a> wherein the reader saves an enslaved Sans from an owner beating him up on the street and accidentally becomes his owner. It also draws inspiration from <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22889362">”Blood and Marrow” by Tiocpi(washi)</a></p><p>I also ended up making a <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667298">Frans Version</a> of this story, which is <i>mostly</i> the same until Ch5.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eight years ago, magical monsters emerged from their centuries-long imprisonment under Mt. Ebott and immediately declared war on humankind. Using the souls of seven humans, presumed to be among the plethora of missing persons cases for which Ebott was infamous, the monsters broke a magical barrier apparently constructed by humans of old to prevent just such an escape. Their king, made preternaturally powerful by these souls, spearheaded an assault that absolutely devastated the surrounding cities. The monsters slaughtered without conscience, uncaring if their victims were armed soldiers or children begging for mercy. Human weapons were powerless against their magic and accelerated healing abilities.</p><p>In the height of desperation, human government made the incredibly controversial decision to nuke Mt. Ebott; an action of which the ramifications would never be determined, as the monsters somehow redirected the warhead into space. Unable to track its location, all humans of the world collectively held their breath until an enormous cloud of dust on the moon's surface marked the missile's impact on the celestial body a week later.</p><p>While monsters celebrated this, their greatest victory, the moon-nuking marked a turning point in the war. Until then, the monsters' assault had been limited only to North America, where Mt. Ebott was located. However, worldwide outrage over the attack on the moon provoked international action. Scientists and technological experts worked together, their efforts culminating in the development of magical control collars. These devices, while having no effect on humans, could not only disable a monster's ability to fight, but also completely override their actions.</p><p>The fighting quickly turned from monsters against humans to <em>monsters against other monsters controlled by humans</em>. Six months later, the monster king was dead and any free monster still alive was on the lam.</p><p>With the immediate threat neutralized, the government was now faced with the difficult question of what to do with the thousands of monsters they'd captured during the war. It didn't take long for money-making entities to see the potential profit in using collar-controlled monsters as magical slaves, and they lobbied for the release of all monsters to the public market. Opposition was strong, but in the end it was impossible to defend a race who had so ruthlessly slaughtered civilians. The public saw enslavement as justice; if anything, it was more mercy than the murderers deserved. A faction of "Eliminationists" lobbied for all monsters to be terminated, and warned that dependency on the control collars was dangerous, but they were a minority. Seven years after the war, monster slaves were a ubiquitous presence in most major US cities.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. This could be the start of a good friendship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The protagonists meet. Plot starts the same as "Slavetale" by V_mum, then takes a hard left a couple paragraphs in.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This'll probably be a one-shot.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You were just starting the long walk back to your car when you witnessed a crotchety old man screaming and swinging his cane at a form on the ground. As the form dodged, his hood fell back, revealing a control collar under what appeared to be a ... skull? Huh, you'd never seen a bony monster before. </p><p>Among sundry incoherencies, you heard the old man, presumably the monster's owner, scream, "Stay still, damnit!" </p><p>A light on the collar flashed green as the command was accepted. The monster froze, completely unable to move or avoid the next attack. </p><p>At this point you gave a fearsome scream and heroically tackled the old man, knocking both of you down onto the sidewalk pavement. He responded by biting your arm, hard. Apparently he still had his natural teeth or they made dentures ridiculously sharp because it actually broke the skin in a few places, causing you to cry out in pain. When you yelled at an interested bystander to call the police it completely freaked out the old man. You wondered if he had a criminal record. It wouldn't surprise you. </p><p>The old man begged you not to press charges and shoved a stack of papers in your hands, announcing that he was giving you the skeleton monster. Before you could say anything, he was already shuffling down the block as fast as possible. You considered chasing him down (it wouldn't be hard) but the monster on the ground took priority.</p><p>"Oh my god, are you alright??" you asked, holding out your hand to help him stand up. The skeleton didn't answer, or take your hand. He continued to stare at you with blank, dark sockets, jaw set in a sharp toothed grimace.</p><p>You pushed aside how unnervingly creepy it was and sat down on your knees, putting aside the stack of papers and holding up your hands placatingly. </p><p>"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Please, I just want to help."</p><p>The skeleton still didn't move, but after a moment, two glowing red lights like pupils appeared in the darkness of his eye sockets. They traveled down to stare at his collar where a red light was blinking, signalling that the monster was fighting a command.</p><p>"Huh? ...oh...OH!" Duh! The last thing that asshole had said was "stay still." All you had to do was give a different order. You cleared your throat and said in the most authoritative manner you could, "You are allowed to move!"</p><p>The light on the collar blinked purple, but the skeleton stayed frozen in place. He looked at you with glowing pupils, his expression much the same but maybe a little... annoyed?</p><p>"What? What does purple mean?"</p><p>He rolled his eyelights but didn't answer, though apparently he was trying to, since the light blinked red again. </p><p>"Uh...You are allowed to speak!" The light flashed purple. "What the hell?! I said, you are ALLOWED TO SPEAK! Stop following that asshole's commands!"</p><p>The collar continued to blink purple, which was rapidly becoming your least favorite color. What was wrong?! Was it set to another language or something? You pulled up a translation app on your phone. "Uh...Sprechen! Hablar! Mówić! Shuōhuà! Paroli! Labhair! Parler! Eakspay Atinlay!"</p><p>The only thing your tirade accomplished was to attract the attention of passersby, curious why someone was screaming at their monster in a bunch of different languages. You caught the eye of one person who graced you with a particularly baleful stare as they walked past, likely a fellow monster sympathizer angry to see a monster being abused by its owner. You groaned. "God damn it. I'm so sorry, man, I don't know how these stupid collars work," you said to the monster. He stared at you with an only slightly less malevolent expression. After a moment, he gestured with his pupil-eyelights towards the stack of monster slave registration papers still lying on the ground where the man had dropped them. </p><p>"Oh...oh, shit." You remembered then, that some collars could be set to only allow commands from the owner. "Is that collar locked to only listen to your owner? Look up for yes, down for no."</p><p>The skeleton looked up, then continued staring balefully at you, his collar blinking red as he continually fought against its control. </p><p>"Fuck. That asshole gave me a bunch of your papers but he didn't transfer ownership, did he?" It was a rhetorical question, but the skeleton looked up anyways. "God dammit. Well now what?"</p><p>The skeleton rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Sorry, that wasn't a yes/no question. Uh... crap. I didn't really want to register as your owner, but I guess that's the only way, huh?"</p><p>He paused for a moment, then looked up. </p><p>"Right. Well, there's a monster DMV about two miles that way. I could carry you to my car, but it’s, like, a twenty minute walk that way." You pointed down the street. "Can I leave you here and come back with the car?"</p><p>The skeleton frantically looked downwards. </p><p>"Right, right, that leaves you kind of vulnerable, huh." You looked at the monster on the ground. He was significantly shorter than you and considering that he was literally a skeleton, he probably wasn't super heavy. "Uh... well, I guess I’ll have to carry you." You scooped up the papers and started bending down to pick him up, but stopped when you noticed his eyes were black again. "Oh, sorry! Is it okay if I pick you up? I promise, I'm gonna get that stupid collar to release you as soon as I can." After a moment you added, "And don't worry, I'm not some kind of pervert-rapist or anything."</p><p>That was probably not the best thing to say, if the skeleton's disgusted expression was anything to go by. But after a moment his red eyelights reappeared and tentatively moved upward. </p><p>"Right. Okay, uh... I guess I'll do the old fireman's carry." As gently as you could, you scooped up the skeleton and slung him over your shoulder, the pressure forcing a quiet grunt from him, which puzzled you because as far as you could tell, he didn't have lungs. To your surprise, his bones were warm to the touch and slightly soft. They were also a lot thicker than an actual human skeleton. He was heavier than you had expected, but not so much that it was impossible to carry him. The fact that he was frozen in place and not dead weight made it a lot easier. </p><p>The walk to your car was probably the strangest experience of your adult life. To say that you attracted a little attention would be an understatement. Every single person on the damnably busy sidewalk stared at you. Some were polite enough to quickly look away but most of them ogled unabashedly at the spectacle of someone lumbering down the street with a monster flung over their shoulder. A few people outright laughed and one particularly rude asshole posed next to you for a selfie. The threadbare t-shirt and shorts the skeleton monster was wearing did little to pad his bones, which dug painfully into your shoulder the longer you went. "I'm so sorry, this has gotta be wicked uncomfortable for you," you said to the skeleton, addressing the side of him hanging over the front of your body. "We're almost there. It's just, like, two more blocks."</p><p>You were only a few feet from your car when, in an excruciatingly ironic development, you encountered the wrath of a rather dimwitted yet aggressively passionate monster sympathizer walking by. The woman, who looked to be in her forties and sported a very ‘I demand to speak to the manager’ haircut, was outraged by the wanton cruelty before her. "You put that monster down, RIGHT NOW!" she screamed.</p><p>"No, no you don't understand," you tried to say, "he's stuck-"</p><p>"Unhand him or I swear, I am calling the police! There are LAWS!"</p><p>"I'm not abusing him, lady!" </p><p>"Liar! I can see scratches and cracks all over him! People like you make me SICK! How dare you do that to a completely defenseless monster?!"</p><p>"THAT WASN'T M-" you started to protest, but at this point the woman apparently decided that calling the police would take too long and it was time to take justice into her own hands. In an abominably misguided attempt to save the skeleton from his abuser, she kicked your leg, smacking into your left shin and knocking your foot out from under you. As someone who struggled to balance on one foot while standing perfectly still and not carrying a skeleton monster, you had no hope of remaining standing. You felt yourself falling forward and were flooded with that terrible, icy sensation of knowing you are about to have a violent encounter with the ground. In an act of heroism and selflessness worthy of legend, you threw all the movement you could into making sure the side of you not holding the skeleton would hit the pavement first. You tightened your grip on him with one arm and reached out with the other to brace for impact.</p><p>Apparently your upper arm strength was even worse than you thought (though to your credit, you had been carrying something heavy for twenty minutes) because the last thing you remembered was a very close look at an interesting crack in the sidewalk, and then blackness. </p><p>________________</p><p> </p><p>Sans was pretty sure the screaming human ran away immediately after knocking you unconscious, but he had landed facing the opposite direction and couldn't turn his head to see. </p><p>A minute ago, as he was being paraded down the street, completely paralyzed and hanging off the shoulder of yet another new owner while other humans laughed and took pictures, Sans was certain his life couldn't possibly get any worse. The universe had apparently taken this sentiment as a challenge, because now he was lying on the ground, halfway on top of an unconscious human and with a toe bone that really fuckin' hurt from where it had scuffed against the concrete.</p><p>Pedestrian traffic, which had been inconveniently heavy for the entire journey, had now almost completely dried up. The nearest human headed their way was walking several large dogs, and Sans prayed to the stars that the human under him would wake up before they both got peed on. Equally bad, the human with the dogs might assume Sans was somehow responsible for the incapacitation of his owner. Stars, he hoped you weren't dead. Ordinarily, he'd be thrilled to see any human get dusted, but right now he needed you alive. The fact that Sans very clearly couldn't move would do no good in court, where monster slaves rarely received even the meager rights to fair trial supposedly bestowed to them by law. </p><p>Sans concentrated, trying to feel the presence of the human's soul. Ordinarily, he would be able to see it as clearly as a star in the night sky, but the fucking control collar was set to suppress almost all of his magic. To his relief, he found the human’s soul after a few moments of searching. They were still alive, but hurt; probably concussed, if he remembered anything about biological brains correctly. Fortunately for this owner, Sans' previous one had kept a small channel of his magic unlocked specifically for healing, which he forced the monster to use on his disgusting bunions. Sans was less than proficient in healing magic, especially when being chronically underfed and healing from his own injuries, but the stupid man never gave him a chance to explain that; not that it would have mattered.  At least the involuntary use of what little healing ability he had meant that he was now more practiced than ever before.</p><p>Trying to ignore the pain in his foot and disconcerting awkwardness of his frozen position, Sans focused on his own soul and generated a strand of green healing magic, which he stretched in the direction of the human's head. It took a few tries before he made the connection, but eventually he was able to find the area of brain matter that had sustained the most injury. </p><p>"Boss could do this so much better," he thought as he worked. The subsequent pang of sadness broke his concentration and Sans mentally cursed as he searched again for the connection. "Don't think about him now. Focus. This idiot clearly has no experience owning a monster slave. You finally have a shot at escape and finding Pap, but first you need this dumb human to unfreeze the fucking collar." </p><p>After a minute of effort, the human under Sans finally started to stir. They groaned and slowly raised a hand to their head. He didn't have a great view but Sans thought he saw it come away with a significant amount of blood on it. </p><p>"Ow..." the human groaned, slowly pushing themselves off the ground. At this point they must have noticed the weight of the skeleton monster laying halfway on top of them, because they turned their head around to look at Sans. Upon seeing him, their eyes lost their lethargic, confused glaze and took on an expression of panic.</p><p>"Oh my god! Are you okay??" they said, carefully lifting Sans' rigid body as they worked their way into a sitting position.</p><p>Sans answered "yes," with his eyes, relieved that the collar did not seem to recognize this as a lie, despite the fact that one of his toes was almost certainly broken. He wished he could yell at the human to stop getting their gross-ass blood on him. </p><p>"Oh thank Christ. What the actual FUCK was that lady's problem?!" The human pinched their nose, which apparently was the source of the bleeding. Their voice came out sounding weirdly stuffy in a way Sans found very annoying. "I'm trying to HELP you! Seriously! I want to help you get out. Slavery is unbelievably fucked up. There's a group I heard about who might help us, I heard they rescue monst-" </p><p>The human suddenly cut themselves off, clapping a hand over their wet, fleshy mouth. They looked up and down the street, as though checking if anyone had been listening. At this point, the guy walking his dogs had reached them, but even if he had been paying attention, there was no way he could have heard anything over the music thumping loudly in his headphones. As it was, he didn't so much as spare a glance for the bleeding human and frozen monster lying on the sidewalk. Typical fucking human.</p><p>"Hang on, I'll make room in the car," said the human. They carefully laid Sans on the ground before struggling to their feet and gathering up the scattered mess of registration papers. A minute later, they had the back door of the car open and returned to pick him up. </p><p>Either the human was not completely healed from the concussion or just naturally very clumsy, because as they pushed Sans into the car feet first, the beleaguered skeleton could only watch in helpless terror as the edge of the doorframe rapidly approached his face.</p><p>*thump*</p><p>"FUCK! OH MY GOD! I AM SO SORRY!" </p><p>Sans silently vowed that before he escaped, he would make time to kill this human. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Monster DMV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You and Sans have a very awkward car ride to the government office that handles monster registration, which everyone calls the "Monster DMV" (for non-American readers, DMV stands for 'Department of Motor Vehicles' and you have to go there to register your car or get a license and everyone hates it because there always super long lines)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You know how I said this was gonna be a one-shot? yeah, turns out I'm a filthy liar.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fitting the skeleton into the backseat of your economy hatchback was harder than you had anticipated. It wasn't that the monster was large, he was actually a bit smaller than you, but the way he was frozen in place made it awkward. Apparently the collar had taken the command to "hold still" extremely literally; the monster couldn't even bend his arms and legs. The back seat of your car wasn't quite wide enough for his rigid form to fit lengthwise, and it wasn't as if you could just prop him up sideways; that seemed like it would be super uncomfortable. </p><p>Eventually you managed to fold down the back seats and push enough trash out of the way to make a flat surface big enough for the skeleton to sit in the same pose he had been in when the old guy yelled the command. You couldn't exactly buckle him in so you'd just have to be extra careful while driving. You were so careful, in fact, that you paid much more attention to the road than to what you were saying, treating your literal captive audience to an unfiltered stream of verbalized thoughts.</p><p>"Okay, right now we're going to the government-monster-department-office-thing or whatever to get you unlocked. Uh- I mean the collar. Can't unlock <em> you </em> , that'd be silly. ...heheheh, after all, that would take <em> skeleton </em>key, wouldn't it? 'Ba-dum tshh!' ...Sorry, was that joke offensive? It was, wasn't it. Sorry.</p><p>In all seriousness, I want to make it clear that I do not believe in monster enslavement. I mean, I believe it <em>exists</em>, you know, obviously, haha.  But what I'm trying to say is I don't<em> believe </em>believe it, you know? I'm not a slave owner and I didn't even <em>want </em>to be a slave owner, but when we go into the building I'm gonna have to act like I'm totally stoked to be your new owner, because then they'll give <em>me</em> control of the collar and I can let you move around and stuff. I <em>promise</em> I'm not gonna make you do anything, okay? Just play along until we can get out of there and then we'll go somewhere and talk about what we're gonna do long-term cause I wanna help any way I can<em>. </em>I mean… it's the least I can do to make-up for everything my species has done to yours, right? </p><p>Urghhhh. God, this whole slavery thing is so fucked up. I still can't freaking believe it. There are dystopian novels about this kinda thing! I know humans suck and everything, but we regressed, like, two whole centuries backwards. People just don't understand that history repeats itself <em>every</em> <em>fucking time.</em> They're like 'Oh, this time it's different,' but it's really not; it's not different just because this time it's happening to you and you can justify it because you're intimately aware of the issues instead of looking back in a history textbook of a bunch of people you can't even remember the names of. Everybody thinks they're special and what happened to other people won't happen to them- but that's the people in history thought, too, and it's what people are gonna think when they look back on what's happening now. Tchh. Hey, maybe this'll make you feel better; I don't know how much you know about human history, but humans have been enslaving each other for pretty much all of the time we've been alive. It's not something personal against monsters; we're terrible to other humans, too. Yeah, there've been some nice, matriarchal civilizations that didn't have slaves and everyone got along and they all… ate nuts and fruits, or whatever, but they were pretty much wiped out every time by these violent, patriarchal societies that would just come in and be like 'Let's make this place more terrible and get rid of all the happy peacefulness.' God...<em>Fuck</em> the Patriarchy, man! I don't know how it was with you guys in the Underground, but up here women weren't even allowed to vote in America until like...1918 or something?** Wow, I should really know that. That's the public school system for you; all I remember is that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell and I'll take that knowledge to my grave."<br/>
_____________<br/>
<br/>
If a genie had appeared and given Sans a wish to kill one human he wanted, wherever they were, he would have chosen this one. Nevermind that this particular human was currently piloting the car he was in; he'd risk dying in a crash ten times over just to make this human shut the FUCK up. They could at least have turned the radio on; even the shittiest music in the world would have been better than this one-sided barrage of military-grade drivel. It was bad enough being frozen in place, sliding around in a small sea of empty soda cans and cellophane wrappers; it was infinitely worse being forced to listen to the human yap about how it was apparently okay for humans to enslave monsters because they enslaved other humans, too, so at least the injustice was fair. Wow, that was a hell of an oxymoron, wasn't it? Fair injustice. Poetic, yet supremely idiotic.<br/>
It didn't matter what the human said about how they "just wanted to help" and "won't ever use the collar, I promise"; he'd heard it enough times to never believe it again. That had been one of the dumbest mistakes in his life, and one he didn't plan on repeating.  What was that human expression? "Fool me once, shame on you; Fool me twice and now I've been double-fooled," or something like that. He'd never felt like the phrase was worth devoting to memory. Over the past eight years, Sans had come to realize that the only thing about a human that really mattered to a monster was whether they were smart or stupid. This human was definitely the latter. Their unchecked rant about the plight of monsterkind only further exemplified how seriously out of their depth they were. This human was a scared little kid floating in the deep end of a swimming pool, and they were the best shot he’d had at escape in years. He just had to wait for the right moment.</p><p>Sans' machinations were interrupted by the shrill squeak of rubber on metal as the car suddenly braked. The vehicle screeched to a dead stop; subsequently creating a force of inertia that sent the monster careening into the back of the seats in front of him. The worst part was that he landed directly on his broken toe again. If Sans could talk, he would have had some choice words for the driver. As it was, all he could do was redouble his efforts to think of a way to escape that involved collateral damage in the form of a specific annoying human. No, "annoying" wasn't nearly a strong enough adjective for what he'd been through today. Exasperated? Aggravated? "Pissed off?"<br/>
Through the remissing daze of blunt force trauma, he heard the voice he now detested most in the entire world shout, "My bad! I thought that street was one-way. They really should put up better signs, but whatever, are you okay? Oh, right, you can't answer me. Uh… well, were almost there, so you should be able to move again soon. Just hang tight, okay?"</p><p>___________<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"You want some help with that?" a man asked as you carried the skeleton into the government building. The offer was tempting, but the man gave off a bad vibe, like he was gonna take the monster and run. You'd heard of that kind of thing happening; you specifically remembered it because you had been ticked off by the news referring to what was really kidnapping as "theft." </p><p>"Uh… No, thank you. I got it."</p><p>The man looked a little disappointed, which only furthered your suspicions. "You sure?"</p><p>"Yeah, yeah, it's fine; just gotta make it up to the third floor, right? That's what it says on the directory."</p><p>"You sure? That's pretty far."</p><p>"Well… there’s an elevator, right?" </p><p>The man pointed to the left. "Yeah, but it's all the way on that side of the building."</p><p>Ah, crap. "Well, thanks for the directions," you said cheerfully, and headed off towards where the man had pointed before he could say anything else. To be honest, you weren't sure you'd make it to the office. The skeleton wasn't <em> super </em> heavy, but you'd already carried him all the way back to your car and then you had to park on the far end of the building's parking lot. Your arms were getting dangerously tired. Not only that, but the spot where the old man had bitten you was really starting to hurt now that the adrenaline of your legendary fight had worn off. Looking closely at the wound for the first time, you realized it was more serious than you had originally thought. The old man had apparently unhinged his jaw like a snake because there were spots where the skin was broken on the top and underside of your forearm. You should probably get a tetanus booster. <em> Christ </em>, you hoped this wasn't how the zombie apocalypse got started.</p><p>You soon noticed that you and your unwilling piggyback-buddy were getting more than a few stares from human and monsterkind alike as you semi-successfully navigated the bureaucratic labyrinth. A few of them snickered, and you saw one monster bump the monster next to her with her elbow and point.</p><p>"Do they know you?" You whispered to the skeleton, briefly forgetting that the entire reason you were here was because your monster friend couldn't speak or move. That didn't stop you from digging the hole a little deeper, though. "Wait, is that racist to be like 'all monsters know each other?' Shit, sorry." </p><p>As you got further into the building, however, your thoughtless comment turned out to be correct. A dog-shaped monster laughed loudly and literally barked, "Hey Sans! How's it <em> hanging? </em>HAHA!" </p><p>Was that the skeleton's name? He wasn't saying anything, of course, but he started to feel warm in your arms. You saw in a passing mirror that his cheeks had a rosy flush and his body temperature was definitely rising. You weren't sure whether that meant he was embarrassed or angry, probably both. Even without being able to talk, you got the distinct impression that he wanted to kill everyone in here and then you; possibly not in that order.</p><p>You continued to receive derisive attention all the way until you reached the Department of Monster-whatever. To your infinite relief, there was no line. You walked right up to the front desk where an o̶b̶e̶s̶e̶ <em> 'body-shape-divergent' </em> woman was trying unsuccessfully to staple a thick stack of paper. When she saw you standing behind the counter, she paused in her endeavor long enough to say, "Chucky over there will help you," then resumed battling the office supplies.</p><p>Before you could ask where exactly "Chucky" was, a very tall, excited young man ran over to you.</p><p>"O-M-G! That's a skeleton monster, right? They're SUPER rare," he said, as if the monster on your shoulder was a high-value trading card. He waved for you to follow him. "C'mon, we can get you registered or whatever over here." </p><p>You followed the chipper youth into a room filled with green curtained stalls, each containing a couple of regular chairs, a rolling stool, and a desk with a computer and some other equipment you didn't recognize. It distinctly reminded you of a phlebotomy lab. Chucky gestured for you to have a seat.</p><p>"Uh…" you said, unsure of what to do with the monster you were carrying.</p><p>Chucky seemed to recognize your hesitation. "Oh, you can put your monster down, it's fine."</p><p>It was the first time you'd heard someone call the skeleton "your monster." It sent a sickening chill down your spine and you gave an involuntary shudder. </p><p>"No," you said resolutely, "I'm not putting him on the ground." </p><p>The youth looked down and considered the laminated tile floor for a moment. "Yeah, I don't blame you. Who KNOWS what kind of crap has been spilled in here." He snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. "Hold on, I'll be right back." He ran to the front of the room, almost colliding with a woman leading a large bear monster on a chain.</p><p>"Watch it!" She snapped. </p><p>"Sorry, ma'am!" Chucky said. "What can I do for you?"</p><p>The woman pointed at the bear monster. "I think the collar is malfunctioning. He's not listening to what I say and it keeps getting worse."</p><p>"Okay, well, I'll be with you in just a few minutes," Chucky said, and waved towards one of the stalls. "Please have a seat." </p><p>He ran out of the room, then reappeared less than twenty seconds later, pushing a squeaky-wheeled gurney. </p><p>"There," he said, stopping next to you. "You can put him on this."</p><p>The gurney looked like it had been bought at the liquidation sale of a particularly thrifty hospital that had been put out of business by a series of lawsuits following the lethal failure of cheap equipment; that is to say, the gurney looked rickety. But the linen sheet covering it seemed clean enough so you gently lowered the frozen monster onto it, making sure to put him right-side-up.</p><p>Chucky plopped down on the rolling stool by the desk and logged into the computer. "You got paperwork?"</p><p>You reached into your back pocket and took out the tightly rolled stack of papers the bitey, hopefully-not-zombie old man had thrown at you. You handed them to Chucky. He smoothed them out as best he could, then flipped through a few pages before finding the one he needed.</p><p>"Here we go, 'Monster ID Form.'" He typed in a long string of numbers and letters, having to repeatedly look back and forth between the paper and the computer. "The new collars have QR codes," he remarked off-handedly, "but that one looks like an old model, maybe even first-gen." </p><p>You looked at the skeleton monster, noting that the lights in his eyes had gone out. "Hey," you said gently, resisting the urge to put you hand on his shoulder, "You doing okay?" </p><p>His eyes stayed dark, so you figured he was probably not going to respond. Not that you blamed him; this whole thing must suck so bad. But a few seconds later, the red dots in his eye sockets reappeared. He stared at you with keen intensity, then looked up. </p><p>"Pfff," you scoffed good-naturedly, "Yeah, you know what? I don't believe you. But don't worry, we should have you unfrozen soo-"</p><p>"Holy CRAP!" Chucky shouted. "Do you know who this monster is??"</p><p>You frowned. "What? No, I just got him. Why, what's wrong?"</p><p>Chucky pointed to the computer screen. "That's<em> 'Sans'. </em> Apparently he was one of the most dangerous monsters in the war! He killed a LOT of humans."</p><p>You felt the blood in your veins turn to ice. "What, really??" You knew he'd probably fought in the war but... "But he's so small!" </p><p>You could almost physically feel the heat of eyes burning into the back of your head, and turned to see the skeleton giving you a murderous glare. Oops.</p><p>"Says here he's got a bunch of magical abilities like bigass- sorry, <em> large </em> laser beams and using blue magic to grab people's souls," Chucky said enthusiastically, as though he were reading the stats of a powerful Yu-Gi-Oh monster. "Duuuuude, he's like, <em> mega </em>-dangerous. Says here he's suspected in the death of one owner and they think he's been used by big crime bosses or whatever to kill more people. Where did you even get him??"</p><p>"Uh…" What on Earth had you gotten yourself into? "Some old dude bit me and gave him to me so I wouldn't sue him."</p><p>Chucky guffawed and swiveled on the stool to face you. "Bro that's fu<em>-</em> <em>freaking</em> hilarious!" Suddenly, his expression became more subdued. "But seriously, that monster is not a fluffy little pet. You should sell him to the police or military; they're always buying powerful monsters and you'll get a <em>lot</em> of money."</p><p>You didn't know what to say. "Uh…"<br/>
________________<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>And there it was, Sans thought. Another do-gooder human that was all for monster rights until they were reminded of the war; you know, that crucial little detail of how less than ten years ago, he and the other monsters had popped up on the surface world and started slaughtering humans. Sans had been through this a few times before; a human would try to "save him" by buying him from someone worse (or in this case, accepting him as a weird bribe), but then they learned what he'd done and couldn't get rid of him fast enough.<br/>
He would never admit how much that hurt. He didn't know why it did, but it hurt every time, and he was sold to the next buyer hating humans even more. It was infuriating. The damn sentiment was blatantly hypocritical; after all, he <em> had </em> killed humans in the war and still tried to whenever possible. Humans <em> should </em> be scared of him, and boy did this human look scared. Good. That was good. He hated them. He wanted them to die.</p><p>After the anti-slavery speech in the car, he was pretty sure that this human didn't have any direct connections to people who bought monsters, so it was probably going to be back to the public auction house with ol' Sansy. He wondered if they'd keep him frozen until then. It was the smart thing to do. They'd want to sell him as soon as they cou-</p><p>"Thanks, but no. He's not for sale." </p><p>Sans blinked in surprise at the human. ...Was this really happening? </p><p>"You sure?" the tall human asked. "Cause I wouldn't, if I were you."</p><p><em> Shut up, kid, shut up! </em>Sans shouted in his head. If Dummy over here actually wanted to keep him, they'd have to reset the collar to recognize a new owner; which is exactly what he'd been hoping for. When the control collars were first deployed, they had a small problem where immediately after an owner transfer, they briefly lost power. This gave the monster a few precious seconds of free will. Later models had fixed this problem but to his infinite shame and regret, Sans had been one of the first monsters captured, and his collar had never been replaced. In previous transfers, his owners had known about the flaw and took precautions in the form of chaining him down to a chair and pointing a gun in his face while they smeared their gross blood on the collar sensor. This bean-pole kid who treated monsters with the go-get'em attitude of a Pokemon trainer didn't look like he'd been trained on how to deal with first gen collars.</p><p>"Yes. I'm sure," the human said firmly. "What do I need to do to get control of his collar?"</p><p>The kid shrugged. "Alrighty then, it's your funeral," he mumbled. He handed the other human a pen and pointed to various parts of the paperwork. "Sign here and here and put your information here."</p><p>He picked up a box on the desk and shook out one of those one-use pointy needle thingies. "To assign a new owner, you have to put a drop of your blood in that little hole in the collar."</p><p>The other human looked horrified. "Wait, really?"</p><p>"It's just how the magic works, don’t ask me." The kid held out the needle. "You wanna stick your finger or should I?"</p><p>The human looked extremely nervous. "Uh… You better do it."</p><p>"Okay," the kid said. He reached into another box and pulled out a pair of nitrile gloves. "You gonna be one of those people who faint at the sight of blood?"</p><p>Sans always loved it when humans did that, but right now he was relieved to hear them say, "No, no, I'm fine with needles and blood, I just don't know if I can do it to myself."</p><p>"Okay, give me your han- oh, wait, I almost forgot!" The kid sprung to his feet and picked up what looked like a barcode scanner from the desk. "Gotta use this on the collar to unlock owner transfer first; otherwise people could just transfer monsters whenever they wanted." </p><p>Sans stared maliciously at the boy as he held the device up to his collar, which gave a long beep signaling it was ready to accept a blood sample. For some reason, the other human had also gotten out of the chair and stood next to the gurney. The kid picked up the needle from where he'd left it on the desk and gestured for Sans' new owner to give him their hand. Sans struggled not to grin. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. The skeleton readied himself as much as he could without actually moving his body. Freedom here we come!</p><p>The needle was only a centimeter away when, in perfect dramatic timing, there was a thunderous roar followed by loud crashing sounds and a woman screaming. Sans was faced towards the wall and couldn't see what was going on, but judging from the reactions of the two humans in front of him and the familiar voice of Freddy the bear, he could pretty well guess. </p><p>Bean-pole immediately put his long legs to use and sprinted away. To Sans' enormous surprise, the other human didn't. Instead, they frantically grabbed a needle from the box on the desk and jabbed it into their finger, then found the sensor on his collar and smeared blood on it. The collar gave a long beep signaling that it had accepted the sample and another short beep to confirm that it had started processing it.</p><p>"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," the human muttered. "How long will it take until you can move ag-" The human stopped mid-word as they looked up in fear at something right behind Sans. </p><p>"Well, well, well, if it isn't <em> Sans the skeleton </em>," rolled the deep voice of Freddy the bear. "What's the matter, buddy? You stuck? No bones or blue magic?" The bear laughed maliciously. "Heheheh. Well, I guess this is my lucky day. I almost feel bad cause no one else is here to see it. There are a looooot of monsters who'd love to see you dust." He cracked his knuckles. "Say goodnight, Sansy."</p><p>Damn this first gen collar. Yeah, it was the only one with the shutting-off problem, but at least the new ones processed blood faster. He had been so close to freedom and now he was going to die at the paws of Freddy the bear. <em> Freddy the </em> <b> <em>fucking</em> </b> <em> bear. </em>Sans' figured his final thought should probably be something meaningful, so as he heard the *whoosh* of enormous claws, he pictured himself and his little brother together; not as they had been in later years, but how they used to be, before things got bad. </p><p>But the claws never hit him. Instead, he heard the human scream and felt their body slam into the back of the gurney, as, for the second time that day, they took a blow meant for him.</p><p>Freddy growled. "Outta my way, twerp!"</p><p>The human shouted between pained gasps, "You… You leave him the fuck alone!"<br/>
"The hell do you want to protect Sans for, dumbshit??" Freddy asked. Apparently he wasn't interested in the reply because a moment later there was another *whoosh* and a heavy thud as the human went sailing across the room. Sans could just barely see where they landed out of the corner of his eye socket. They weren't screaming anymore, which was probably a bad sign. </p><p>Before Freddy could swipe at him again, the sound of more humans coming into the room got the bear’s attention. Sans heard him run in that direction, roaring. The collar gave a short beep, meaning that it had reached the halfway point of processing the transfer of ownership. It wasn't done yet, but the previous owner's commands had been erased and default commands were restored, which gave him permission to move again. With immense relief, Sans felt his body return to his control. He turned around to look at the scene.</p><p>The room was in shambles. Several curtains had been knocked down and paperwork was scattered everywhere. The lady who had come in with the bear monster lay headless on the floor. The tall kid was nowhere to be seen. At the room's entrance, Freddy was battling four security guards and seemed to be winning.</p><p>It was pure chaos.<br/>
Perfect. </p><p>The collar gave a long, loud beep as it finished processing the transfer of ownership, then the light went out. It was off. Without wasting a beat, Sans grabbed the collar and ripped it off, sighing with relief as he felt air hit his neck bones for the first time in years. This was it. He was free. The skeleton's magic was low after months of being suppressed, but after a few frustrating seconds he managed to gather enough to teleport a short distance. He figured he'd aim for the roof of the building and stay there until his magic had recovered enough to teleport further away, which should only take a couple of minutes. </p><p>Laughing maniacally, Sans hopped off the gurney onto the floor. He had to be standing when he teleported; he'd landed tailbone-first after trying it while sitting and didn't feel like experiencing that pain again. He was just about to make the jump when a gasping sound got his attention. A few feet away, the human -<em> his </em> human- was lying on the ground in a puddle of blood. They coughed as they struggled to take in air; a condition which probably had something to do with the massive claw wounds across their chest and neck. </p><p>….Whatever. Time to go. It's not like it mattered to Sans if this human died; he had spent the last hour-and-a-half hoping for this exact thing. Besides, maybe they wouldn't die. Maybe another human would come in and save them.</p><p>Sans looked back at the door, where five more security guards were struggling to subdue Freddy. The bear had already KO'd three of them and didn't show any signs of stopping.</p><p>…Okay, so maybe another human wasn't going to get here in time. But that's fine, he just needed to forget about this dumb, compassionate human and leave while he still could. It was their own damn fault if they died because they made the idiotic decision to protect a killer like him. It wasn't like he'd <em> asked </em> them to save his life ...twice. </p><p>Ah, shit, now they were looking at him. </p><p>"Please…" the human gasped between gurgling breaths. Then they lay limp on the floor, not moving.</p><p>Fuck. FUCK. <b>FUUUUUCK.</b></p><p>Sans gave a loud, frustrated growl. "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?!?" </p><p>With no small amount of regret, Sans released the magic he'd gathered to teleport and focused on healing magic instead. He knelt in the disgusting puddle of blood next to the human and put his hands over the wounds on their neck and chest. A bright green glow emanated from beneath his palms as tissues slowly began to knit back together. It took him a whole minute to stop the bleeding; several large blood vessels had been hit, and one was torn almost completely in half. As soon as he was reasonably certain the human would live, he got back to his feet and started gathering magic for a teleport. Okay, time to get out of h-</p><p>*<b>BZZZZT</b>!*</p><p>A deafening electric buzz shot through the skeleton's nonexistent ears as an overpowering force usurped control over his body and magic. He seized up and fell face-first onto the floor. His skull bounced sharply off the laminate tile as he landed, once again slamming his god damned broken toe into the ground. As he lay there, groaning, he saw one of the guards holding a mass-control beacon. It was a device made to take down an entire group of monsters at once. Sans was intimately familiar with the machines; after all, he had been one of the monsters they used to design it.</p><p>For the second time that day, Sans found himself on the ground, completely unable to move. At least this time he could still talk, an ability he immediately put to use by screaming, "FUCKIN,<em> AGAIN?! </em> <b> <em>REALLY?!??</em> </b> <em> "  </em></p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*I looked it up: the 19th amendment giving women the right to vote was ratified on August 26, 1920. So hey, at least I wasn't that far off!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. An Especially Vindictive Goldfish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>(Sans POV) Roughly a day later, Sans is being held in a cell at the "Monster Detention Center," colloquially referred to as "The Monster Pound." This is a government facility where confiscated, lost, and ownerless monsters are kept temporarily. Sort of like an animal shelter, but a little more deplorable.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was originally going to have each chapter be half Reader's POV and half Sans', but this chunk is big enough to be its own chapter and there's no point in sitting on it while I finish the rest.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>With a final, deep scratch, Sans finished the drawing he had been carving into the clear plexiglass wall that made up the front side of his small holding cell at the monster detention center. The container was made of pathetically flimsy material, but the collar made escape impossible; he had been commanded to stay in the cell without any attempts to escape and, after a few disturbing remarks to passing humans, been forbidden from making noise. Technically, he had also been told not to damage the cell in any way, but was adding some art to the drab walls really "damaging" them? No it wasn't; he successfully convinced himself and thereby the collar that what he was doing was making the cell </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Loopholes were handy like that. Intention was everything in magic and he exploited it whenever possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sans smirked as he proudly admired the various words and images he'd carved into the plastic and plexiglass with his claws. This facility might have him and several other monsters lined up like animals at a petshop, but he was a little more vindictive than the average goldfish; even if the most he could accomplish right now was petty vandalism.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted Sans' musings on what to draw next. He watched through the clear plexiglass wall as a detention center employee led another human down the row of confiscated and ownerless monsters. They stopped in front of his cell and the human pointed at him. It was difficult to see through all the improvements he'd made to the clear plexiglass, but after a moment Sans recognized the human that had made the last thirty-two hours of his life even more miserable than usual. Them and their stupid, infectious martyr-complex. He honestly hadn't expected to see them again. They had been pretty damn adamant about not wanting a monster slave, and yet here they were collecting him like a lost dog at the pound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The center employee cursed as she noticed the masterful additions Sans had made to the walls of his cell. His mouth curled into a terrifying sharp-toothed grin, a single golden tooth glinting under the fluorescent lights. It gave the monster no small amount of pleasure to know that the employee would be in hot water for letting the damage happen on her watch. She had been pretty lax about doing her rounds, which were supposed to be done every fifteen minutes but had happened only half as frequently, and always with her observation impeded by the distraction of an ever-present smartphone. He'd never been able to do this much art before someone noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sans' satisfaction doubled at seeing the horrified look on the other human's face as they took in the gruesome image he had drawn on the front wall. He was particularly proud of that one. It really captured how a human being impaled on a bed of giant, pointy bones looked in real life. It had blood spatters and all kinds of other details; if you looked carefully you could even see that the human had shit their pants as they so often did after dying. Sans had found that phenomen endlessly amusing. It had seriously grossed out P- Boss, which only made it that much funnier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bittersweet memory immediately soured Sans' mood and he silently growled, staring down the center employee as she angrily punched in the code to open the cell door. It beeped and she flung it open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"OUT. NOW." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of habit, Sans fought to resist the command as his body moved against his will. His new collar flashed red and gave a pleasant chime. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Resistance detected</span>
  </em>
  <span>" said a sing-song female voice, sounding exactly like the robot that answers when you call a company and reach the automated menu. But instead of saying something like "For help activating a new card, press two,"  the collar cheerily said "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Applying mild corrective shock</span>
  </em>
  <span>" and zapped him right in the fucking neck. If he hadn't been ordered not to make noise, Sans would have had some choice words for the people behind the new collar's design. Mild, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>ass</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The collar obediently piloted his body to stand in front of the two humans. His looked as out-of-their-depth as ever, while the center employee looked absolutely murderous. That cheered the monster up a little. He gave her a smug grin and winked. The woman nearly screamed in rage and swung her slow, fleshy hand at his face. Sans easily dodged, leaning out of the way without moving his feet. The woman's unanswered swing nearly unbalanced her and she had to stumble to catch herself. Sans cackled with laughter, or he would have if the collar wasn't keeping him from making noise. As it was, he just looked like an especially vicious mime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sonnuva-" the employee cursed. She grabbed a flashlight from her belt and raised it to strike him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop!" the other human shouted, jumping between the two of them. To Sans' disappointment, the employee managed to abort her swing just in time to narrowly avoid smashing her flashlight directly into the other human's neck. The latter stumbled clumsily as they fought to counteract the inertia of the drastic movement and remain upright, which they somehow accomplished despite initially looking entirely floor-bound. As soon as they regained their balance, they wheeled on the employee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the HELL is wrong with you??  You can't do that!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The employee backed up a little, looking stricken. "I get it, I get it; Sorry for hitting your monster."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's not m- whatever, just tell him he can move."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The employee raised an eyebrow. "He's your monster, ain't he?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"....Right. Uh…Yeah." The human turned to Sans, who waited eagerly for the idiot to release him. They almost certainly didn't know the right things to say to ensure he didn't immediately run off, or at least cause a little mayhem before being caught again. This could be his second chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "You can m-" the human started to say, but was interrupted by the employee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you, crazy?! You can't just release him like that," the woman shouted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sans imagined what it would feel like to break her neck. It would probably be very satisfying. Just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>CRUNCH</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other human looked puzzled. "What? Why?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The employee shook her head. "Why do I always gotta deal with the newbies?" she muttered under her breath. "You've never had a monster before, huh? Well, you're gonna need to learn a few basic rules if you don't want it to run away or cause mayhem. There's some info sheets at the desk."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The employee walked back towards the entrance. The other human waved for Sans to follow them and started to walk away. When Sans remained where he was, they looked back, confused. He rolled his eyelights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You've got to say it out loud," the shelter employee said without looking back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right…" The other human looked at Sans, meeting his eyes for the first time since their unceremonious reunion. Their expression was hard to read, even for a human face. There was fear there, which made sense; he was giving them a downright predatory stare. But after a moment, their eyes softened and a corner of their mouth twitched upwards in a cautious smile. It made Sans want to kick their teeth in. Still… it made him think back to a happier time in the Underground; back when it was safe for kids to be kids. That was the way Pap looked at people when he was little, like he was hoping every new person could be his friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory distracted Sans so much that he forgot to glare angrily at the human as they walked closer to him. They briefly glanced back towards the employee, making sure they were out of earshot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," the human said quietly. "We'll talk soon, okay? When we're out of here...my car is outside. I-" they looked like they wanted to say more, but hesitated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You coming or what?" the center employee called from her desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The human jerked their head around. "Oh! Uh, yeah!" They gave Sans another plaintive look. "Sorry. I guess I have to… yeah… uh…please don't fight it, I don't want you to get zapped. I'll try to turn that off as soon as I can." They looked sheepishly at the ground. "...Follow me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
  <em>
    <span>chime* Command Accepted. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The human grimaced. They turned and walked towards the desk. Sans briefly considered resisting again just to spite them, but decided it wasn't worth it. This dumb softie would give him plenty of chances to escape later; better not attract attention now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the front desk, the center employee gave the human a hefty stack of papers, including a manual for the specific model of control collar on Sans. He glanced at the cover. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Servent Ultrobae™ enhanced control with s-assist</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. He wasn't up to date on the newest collars, but Servent was one of the first developers. Their collars had dominated the consumer market for a long time thanks to superior "loophole-catching" technology. And now, besides an annoying-ass speaker, they also included electrical shock. Perfect. It was almost impossible to escape now. The person controlling the color would have to be an incompetent moron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>….Actually, escape might still be on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The human was looking thoughtfully at the manual and info sheets. "Hey… it's possible to lock a collar to only listen to its owner's commands, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sans raised a brow-bone. Was this really happening?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The employee shook her head. "Well, yeah, but I wouldn't recommend it, especially since you don't have much experience. No one's gonna be able to stop him if you mess up, except the cops."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Show me how to do it," the other human said firmly, then after a moment added, "please."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sans could hardly believe it. The idiot was even stupider than he'd thought- and that was saying something!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The employee pointed to something in the manual and the human read it out loud. "Lock to owner command." </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>*chime* 'Command Lock' will allow only commands given by collar owner and law enforcement. This setting is not recommended. Proceed?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Proceed."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>*chime* Settings changed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The employee waved towards the door. "There you go. Now, please leave before he finds a way to kill you. I've already gotta clean up the damn cell."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The human gave Sans a nervous glance. He shrugged.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>NEXT CHAPTER CLUE: shoes<br/><sub><i>wHaaaT DoooEs iiiIiitt mEeeaAn?</i></sub></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Get in the stupid car</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You and Sans walk back to the car. Nothing significant happens.<br/><i>Trigger Warning: near-death experience</i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There are two versions of this fic: the original reader-insert and a Frans adaptation. Most of it is the same, but a few things are different. Reader (gender-neutral) is awkward, unsure, impatient, really clumsy, loud, swears a lot, and cries easily. Sans hates them with a passion. Fanon Frisk (Frans, not UT) is a little more well-adjusted. Sans still hates her but <i><b>dayumm</b> gurl, u sexy.<i></i></i><br/>In previous chapters, I've written the reader-insert first and only made a few changes to dialogue and descriptions to better fit Frisk's personality (admittedly, Frisk probably would've handled the confrontation with the old man a little better but I couldn't bring myself to part with the line "heroically tackled the old man.") This time I actually wrote the Frans version of this chapter first, and there are some <b>big</b> differences in the interaction/conversation the protagonist has with Sans, so it’s worth reading both of them. <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667298/chapters/71509260">Ch5 Frans Version</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You hated this. You hated this whole situation. You knew the monster couldn't possibly have found a nicer "owner" than you, but that didn't change the fact that you legally had a slave. Every time you had to acknowledge that fact, you felt like you might throw up. You wanted to talk to …Sans, you thought his name was. Your memory from the previous day was understandably a little fuzzy. The paperwork only had an ID number, so that was useless. Letting the collar continue to keep him from speaking turned your stomach, but you needed to say some things that would be very bad to let other humans overhear. You'd wait until you were in the car. </p><p>You couldn't bring yourself to look back, but you knew the skeleton was obediently following you from the sounds of bone scraping on cement behind you. Oh, that's right, he didn't have shoes. </p><p>*<em>Scrrrp*clik-clak* *Scrrrp*clik-clak* </em> </p><p>It sounded… really painful. Your car was parked several blocks away and he probably wouldn't let you carry him. You stopped walking, and heard him stop a few feet behind you. He was a little shorter than you, right? So his shoe size was probably smaller than yours. Well, that, and he didn’t have any actual fleshy flesh. You stopped walking and considered the shoes you were wearing. The neon orange stripes and velcro straps meant that these shoes weren’t the most stylish things ever; but sometime during the whole ambulance ride and hospitalization you had lost your shoes, and this was the only pair in the hospital lost-and-found bin that had fit you. You’d taken a cab from the hospital to the monster DMV where your car was still parked, then driven directly to the monster pound where they’d told you your skeleton was being held.</p><p>Well, fugly or not, if you had been the one with bare bones scraping on the ground, you’d be happy to wear them. You undid the velcro with a loud <em> *zzZZPP!* </em> and slipped the shoes off. You kept your socks on; you figured he probably didn't want those after you'd been wearing them all day. </p><p>The mature thing to do would be to turn around and offer the shoes to him like a normal person. But you really, <em> really </em> didn't want to face him. You were gonna put that off long as possible. Instead, you left your shoes on the ground and walked a few feet forward, then stopped. You heard the skeleton take a couple more steps, which hopefully put him right on top of the shoes. </p><p>"You can put those on, if you want," you said, still not looking behind you. "Your bones scraping on the ground sounds like it hurts. I can give you the socks, too, but you probably don’t want ‘em. They're kinda sweaty." </p><p>There was no reply, of course. You hoped he was putting the shoes on. After a few seconds of silence, you risked a glance at the ground behind you. Oh good, he was putting on the shoes. </p><p>You pointed down the street. "It's still a few blocks to where I parked. The monster pound- oh man, that's a bad name for it, huh. Sorry. The parking lot only had like two frickin spots and all the damn street parking is closed for street cleaning." You tentatively peeked over your shoulder. “Are you ready?” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him wave his hand impatiently. You took that as a ‘yes’ and started walking again.</p><p>It took approximately ten seconds before you couldn’t stand the awkward silence anymore. So you did what you do best: ramble nervously. “I promise I’ll turn off the non-speaking command once we’re in the car; I just- the things we need to talk about could get me, and by extension, you, in big trouble if the wrong people heard it. I know it’s kinda a dick move on my part, sorry. Ugh, parking downtown sucks. I had to drive around for ten minutes trying to find a spot. I’m actually kinda worried we’ll get there and I’ll have a parking ticket. The stupid frickin’ signs are… <em> miasma? </em> No, that’s not the word I’m looking for. Like… a puzzle, but said more poetically than that. It’s also really hard to see what color the curb is painted sometimes, too. One time, I parked where it was red cause it was so muddy and dusty I couldn’t tell. Do you know how much they give for parking tickets? Like seventy bucks or something! UGH! And they <em> always </em> seem to know, too! You can leave your car for five minutes and come back to find a ticket. I live in fear of the day I get a ticket and it blows off the windshield and I only learn about it when the frickin’ FBI or something breaks down my door and hauls me to jail. I heard about that once- well, <em> saw </em>, more like. John Oliver did a whole show or whatever on debt from tickets and fines and stuff from the city and apparently even though “debtors' prison” is no longer a thing, apparently the city can lock you up if you owe them money cause I guess they consider it breaking the law. They had this example of this old woman who didn’t pay a fine for a few months, or maybe it was a couple of years; I can’t remember. But yeah, they threw Granny in jail and it’s like, how can you do that to someone? Like, it’s not just unethical and cruel, but if she couldn’t come up with the money before, how the frick is she supposed to do it now?” Anyway, the thing with John Oliver went on to talk about how this law firm or whatever got her out of jail by arguing that it was basically the same thing as a debtors’ prison…”</p><p>It took a painfully long time to make it back to the car. Well, it was more like five minutes, but you spent the whole time trying to avoid stepping in puddles and gum and crap while you walked down the sidewalk in socks; not to mention the set of eyes burning into the back of your head the whole time. You finally got to your car and there on the windshield was a bright-red parking ticket.</p><p>“God<em> damnit</em>,” you swore. You popped the front passenger-side door open and walked around to the driver-side, angrily snagging the damn ticket before getting in. When you looked over, you saw the skeleton still standing outside the car, completely ignoring you. Frick. You’d specifically not said anything because you thought it would probably count as a command, and figured he’d get what you meant. He probably had, and was just doing this to spite you.</p><p>“Hey,” you said. He didn’t react. Hmm… how to phrase this? “Do you think you could get in the car?”</p><p>
  <em> *chime* Command accepted. </em>
</p><p>FUCK. The skeleton moved to get in, jerking slightly as he fought the command.</p><p>
  <em> chime* Resistance detected. Applying mild corrective shock. </em>
</p><p>“Nonononono-” you frantically stammered, but apparently it was too late. You heard a loud<em> *zap* </em> noise and saw the skeleton flinch. You hid your stupid, stupid face in your hands.<br/><br/>"Shit. I'm so sorry. I thought if it was rhetorical it wouldn't… Argh!" You gave a small, frustrated scream. "I'm so sorry, man. I have no idea what I'm doing. I know I fuck up a lot but please, you've gotta believe me that I only want to help."</p><p>The skeleton cleared his throat. How the hell'd he do that? He didn't even <em> have </em> a throat. You looked up from the nest of your soggy hands to see him impatiently pointing at his still-not-talking mouth. </p><p>"Oh, shit, yeah," you said. "Uh…" You still didn't want him talking where other people could hear it. "Close that door firs-" You realized your mistake two late. "Damn it!"</p><p>*<em>chime: Command accepted </em>*</p><p>You slapped your clammy palms over your face again, as the skeleton moved robotically to slam the door shut. "Fuuuuuuck. Why can't I remember not to say stuff that's a command?! You'd think it would be easy." </p><p>Sans cleared his throat again, louder. </p><p>You sunk further into yourself. "Oh, yeah," you said, peeking at him through your fingers. "You can talk."<br/><em> *chime* Command accepted </em></p><p>A deep, rough voice spoke from your right. “The fuck are you doin’ that for?”</p><p>Slowly, you peeled your hands off your face and looked over. Two glowing red eyes burned into you, saturated with malice. The skeleton gave you a cruel grin, clearly getting a kick out of your reaction. You gave a quiet, involuntary *<em> eep.* </em></p><p>"What?" he chuckled. "You scared of me, <em> master?" </em> </p><p>"I…" you squeaked out. </p><p>He smiled like he was imagining what it would feel like to break your neck; like the only thing keeping you from being ripped in half in that very moment was a small plastic collar. ...Actually, that was probably not an exaggeration.</p><p>"So, you gonna let me move, too?" he asked in a heavily accented, lazy drawl, "or was all the 'I'm one of the good humans' shit only applicable when I was a cute little pet to carry around?” He flicked a crumb off the armrest. “Heh. Thanks for that, by the way. It was fun. We should do it again sometime."</p><p>This was probably the moment to say something confident and meaningful that bridged the gap between your two peoples with a message of peace and love. Instead, like the ambassador you are, you chose to argue like a toddler. </p><p>"Are you serious?! I <em> had </em> to carry you! You were a frickin plank; what else was I supposed to do??"</p><p>The skeleton scoffed. "Tch. Like I fuckin’ care."</p><p>"I genuinely want to help you, okay?! I've done everything I could! I'm still gonna do everything I can!" You felt the sting of tears threatening to spill over. It was all so much. Yesterday you almost died. Now you were being yelled at for something that wasn't your fault, by someone who hated you more than anyone had ever hated you before.</p><p>"Aww… is da poor widdle swave owner gonna cwy?" the skeleton mocked. "Pweeze don't cw-"</p><p>"Shut up!" You yelled. </p><p>
  <em> *chime* Command accepted. </em>
</p><p>The skeleton went silent mid-word, fangs snapping shut with an audible click. He grinned in cynical amusement. </p><p>Your hand flew to your mouth. "No- I didn't mean- You can talk!"</p><p>
  <em> *chime* Command accepted. </em>
</p><p>The skeleton yawned and stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck. "So," he said in his heavy accent. You thought it was Boston… or New York? There were specific ones in areas of New York but you couldn't remember the differences. "You got a name, dum-dum?" he asked.</p><p>"I… I'm Y/N." You tentatively held out a hand. "You're Sans, right?" </p><p>He shrugged. "Eh, more or less." For a moment it looked like he was raising his hand to meet yours, but then he reached to scratch the back of his neck. He looked out the window, nonchalant. "So, you gonna let me move now, or what?"</p><p>"Oh," you started. "Yeah, you can move."</p><p>
  <em> *chime* Command accepted </em>
</p><p>Sans chuckled darkly. "Heh heh heh. Oh, you fucking moron." </p><p>In an instant, the skeleton was out of the car again and hauling ass down the street.</p><p>"W-wait!" you stammered as you frantically unbuckled the seatbelt and jumped out of the car. You screamed after him, "WAIT! STOP!"</p><p>Thirty yards away, you watched the skeleton come to a screeching halt. A moment later you faintly heard the collar chime, followed by Sans spasming and dropping to the ground yelling "OW! <em> FUCK </em>!"</p><p>"Oh, <em> shit, </em>" you cursed, and started sprinting over to where he had fallen; which, as luck would have it, was in the middle of a moderately active city street. "Aah! I'm sorry! It just slipped out!"</p><p>Sans sat up and leveled you with a positively murderous glare.  It actually startled you so much that for a moment, you lost concentration on what your feet were doing and landed on the next step with your foot slightly twisted. Your pathetically weak ankle buckled and you tripped, landing hard on the asphalt. Thankfully, you were able to strategically break the fall with your hands, the palms of which were now all scratched up. Genius.</p><p>You frantically scrambled to your feet and closed the remaining distance between you and the angry monster. Your ankle fuckin' <em> hurt </em>, but you didn't have time to feel sorry for yourself right now. You'd do that later. </p><p>The aforementioned skele had stood up by the time you made it to him.</p><p>"I should've fuckin' clocked you," he seethed. </p><p>"I… I didn't mean it!" You could feel tears starting to well up again, and you hated it. For once, couldn't you deal with something like an emotionally stable adult?! Was that too much to ask, <em> brain? </em></p><p>“<em>Fuck </em> humans<em>," </em>Sans spat, “and fuck <em> you </em> in particular.”</p><p>You cringed, unconsciously backing away from him. To be fair, he was <em> really </em> scary. You'd never felt so despised before. Sure, sometimes you said the wrong thing and pissed people off, but it was <em> nothing </em> compared to this. The sheer intensity of the monster's hatred and disgust was overwhelming, your fight-or-flight response focusing on the immediate threat and blocking out everything else;<br/>so it made sense you didn't see the truck coming straight at you. </p><p>Your only warning was a sudden change in Sans' expression as he looked up the street. In an instant, the furious scowl dropped off his face; replaced immediately with panic. </p><p>Too late, you turned your head to see what he was looking at, and beheld a large rent-it-yourself moving truck hurtling straight towards you; the driver apparently completely oblivious to the human and monster standing in the middle of the road. There was no way you could move out of the way in time. You figured that your final thoughts should probably be something meaningful, so you tried to think of as many important memories as possible. Sort of a see-your-life-flashing-before-your-eyes kinda thing. </p><p>You had just started to remember the time your family had brought a picnic to the beach and were immediately set-upon by a hoard of bloodthirsty seagulls, when something grabbed your arm and pulled, <em> hard </em> . Your body was yanked out of the way <em> milliseconds </em> before the truck zoomed past. You only managed not to fall because something was around your chest, holding you up. </p><p>After you took a moment to process the fact that your gruesome demise via vehicular-obliteration was no longer imminent, you realized Sans had pulled you out of the way, and caught you before you could fall. </p><p>The skeleton lifted one arm away from you to flip-off the driver. He screamed after the retreating vehicle, "Open your fuckin’ eyes, asshole!" </p><p>"I…" you stammered. Sans shifted his attention from the truck back to you. He started to extricate his arm from where it was still wrapped around your upper-torso but you frantically clung on. The passing wave of adrenaline left you weak and shaky; you could barely stay standing. Tears came in earnest, now, as relief flooded you.</p><p>"Kid, I…" Sans said uncomfortably, "You gotta let go of m-"</p><p>To his infinite chagrin, you grabbed the skeleton in a bear hug and started sobbing into his shirt. It was clear that it hadn't been washed in a long time and smelled really frickin gross, but you didn't care. </p><p>In the periphery, you heard cars honking. You felt Sans trying to move away and grabbed on tighter, desperate to have something to hold on to. You felt his voice rumble in his chest, "Fuckin' Hell. Look, just tell me I can move so you can have your nervous breakdown somewhere besides the middle of the damn street, alright?"</p><p>You nodded weakly and managed to choke out between sobs, "Y-you can m-move."</p><p>The collar's response was really loud since the speaker was right next to your ear.</p><p>
  <b> <em>*CHIME* COMMAND ACCEPTED</em> </b>
</p><p>Wow, you really needed to turn that off. Sans started shuffling towards the sidewalk, pulling you along. As soon as you took a step, though, pain shot up your leg. You cried out and clung to Sans, leaning on him to stop yourself from falling.<br/>“The fuck’s your problem, now?!” he snapped.</p><p>"M-my an-ankle," you stammered. "I tw-twisted it."</p><p>"Are <em> fucking </em> kidding me?!" Sans growled, illiciting another wave of sobbing from the human clinging to him like a barnacle. More car horns honked. "Rrrrrghhhh… Fine!" he grumbled, "It's not like I had any fuckin' dignity left to lose, anyway." </p><p>You felt his arms tighten around your hips as he lifted you off the ground. Wow, he was way stronger than he looked. He didn't sling you over his shoulder, but it was enough of a parallel to make you giggle a little through the tears.</p><p>"You keep laughing, and I’m leaving your sorry ass in the street," Sans snapped. That shut you up. </p><p>Sans carried you all the way back to your car. The driver's side door was still open from when you'd jumped out of it. Sans unceremoniously dropped you into the seat. He slammed the door shut and walked around the car. You were sure he was going to run away again, but a few moments later he opened the passenger side door and got in. He folded his arms and propped his ugly-sneaker-clad feet up on the dashboard. He made a low, grossed-out noise as he looked at the wet splotch on the front of his shirt. You offered him a box of tissues as you struggled to blot your eyes and runny nose. He took one and gingerly wiped at the fabric, dropping the dirty tissue as far away from himself as he could.</p><p>"Th-thanks," you managed to sniffle after you'd calmed down a little.</p><p>Sans stared out the window, scowling. "Whatever. So, what now? You done being a wussy little crybaby?" </p><p>"N-no," you said, voice wavering. "No, I'm pretty much always like this." </p><p>"Honestly, that sounds fuckin' exhausting." The skeleton started rummaging through the various empty chip bags and cellophane wrappers lying around. Man, you really need to clean your car. "You got any actual food? I'm fuckin' starved." </p><p>"W-we could get drive-thru, if you want?" you offered.</p><p>The skeleton actually brightened up at that. "Hell yes, I do. D'you know how long it's been since I've had some decent fries?"</p><p>You tried to do the math in your head. "Well, if it was before the end of the war, that'd be about seven years ago. Or it could have been in the Underground before you came up, but I don't know if you guys had french fries down there. Unless you mean you got some sometime during the whole… <em> slavery </em> thing-"</p><p>"Jesus <em> Christ </em> , it was a rhetorical question," Sans interrupted. "Just shut up and drive us to food, stupid."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><i>Frans version: "Damn it," Frisk cursed under her breath. "I'm so sorry- I didn't mean it, I swear! Are you hurt?"</i><br/>Reader-insert: "Ah, SHIT!" you yelled. "Dude, I swear to god that was an accident! Are you okay?! I'm so fucking sorry"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. French Fries for the Soul</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You and Sans talk while they're in the line for drive-thru, then you drive out of town and talk some more. We learn some of Sans' tragic, dark backstory.<br/><i>Welcome to Dialogue City™, home of the world famous Chapter 6.</i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <i>There are enough hints that the reader should be able to figure out what happened, but it's frickin' hard to walk the line between 'boringly obvious exposition' and 'pretentiously cryptic' so lemme know if I overdid it with the mysteriousness.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>I <b>highly</b> recommend carefully re-reading <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851141/">the prologue</a> if anything doesn't make sense. I changed a few sentences in it to make things more clear.</i>
  <br/>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The trip to Fat Marge's Sliders was largely uneventful, though you were a little surprised by Sans' order of, "Six large fries, and drown 'em in mustard." </p><p>You asked him about it while you both waited in line. "Just fries? I would've thought you'd want 'tough-guy food.'"</p><p>He gave you a weird look. "The Hell's that s'posed to mean?"</p><p>"Oh, you know, there's this whole marketing thing reinforcing the belief that eating meat is masculine. They've got a bunch of commercials with beefy guys eating… beef? I don't think those words are related but it sounds like it could be, you know? Anyway, they always show these videos of plumped-up burgers that violently slam into frame cause violence is also manly; and they've always got an aggressive name like 'PENTUPLE-BACON MAX CHEESE-RIPPER' or 'DOUBLE-SLAM BARBEQUE BACON FRIED CHICKEN BURRITO.' It's always bacon. There's this obsession with bacon online, too, where people are like 'hahaha BACON' and it's apparently really funny cause it tastes good. It makes me sick. Pigs are just as smart, if not <em> smarter </em> than dogs and we still keep 'em in these hellish little cages basically torturing them their whole lives and nobody cares cause 'hahaha bacon' and 'REAL men eat <em><strong>meat'</strong></em>, you know what I'm saying?"</p><p>Sans was staring absently out the window. When he noticed that you were waiting for a response he said, "Oh, sorry, did you say something? I wasn't listening."</p><p>You sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I know I ramble a lot. So, do you, like, not eat meat cause you feel bad for the animals or what?"</p><p>"<em> Fuck </em>, no," he snorted. "I don't give a shit what you humans do to other fleshy organisms on the surface. Almost no monsters eat meat, or any other gross shit that comes outta animals."</p><p>He scrunched up his face, which looked really weird considering it was made out of bone. "Seriously, what's your fuckin' obsession with milk? It's like drinkin' piss. And eggs 'r just lil' round chicken turds. You humans'll eat dead animals and anything that comes outta an animal when they're still alive if you squeeze 'em hard enough."</p><p>You laughed really hard at that. His grossed-out expression was just too funny. "Oh, c'mon," you said once you'd calmed down a little, "are you telling me that you guys had never had any meat underground?"</p><p>"Nah, didn't have any animals except for some rats and mice. Don't know if it was always that way or if we just ran out a long time ago. What we <em> did </em> have was a fuckton of plants, and with magic you can turn that shit into any kind of food you want. So yeah, we had hamburgers; just not the ones made out of yer gross animal bits."</p><p>"That sounds awesome, I wish I could try some! They'd make <em> bank </em> selling magical vegan food on the surface that tastes just like meat."</p><p>Sans snorted again. How the hell was he even doing that? "Yeah, good luck ever clearing that one with the FDA. You guys can't even get past GMOs; you think they're ever gonna be alright with monster magic in the food?"</p><p>"Duuuuude, don't even get me started; I could go on a rant about that for hours<em> . </em>"</p><p>Sans gave you a flat look. "Do it and I'm takin' one of your eyes, kid."</p><p>Despite yourself, you grinned. "WOW, that's a really creepily-specific threat. Yeah, yeah, I won't."</p><p>After an unbearable ten seconds of silence, you were about to risk life and <strike>limb</strike> eye by going back on that statement and start ranting just to fill the awkward empty space in the conversation. Thankfully, you were interrupted by Sans saying, "You know, I've actually eaten meat on the surface."</p><p>"Really?" you said, surprised. "But I thought you said it grossed you the hell out?"</p><p> Sans you a cynical look. "Oh, it fuckin' does, which is why they thought it was hilariously entertaining to make me do it."</p><p>You grimaced. "Jesus, that sucks. I'm so sorry you went through that."</p><p>"The fuck are <em> you </em>sorry for? It's not like you were doin' it."</p><p>"No, that's not what I meant," you explained. "People get confused about that all the time. When I'm saying 'sorry,' I'm not apologizing; I'm saying I feel bad on your behalf. The word 'sorry' by definition just means being in the condition where you're run down and weak and feeble or whatever. Like, a 'sorry sight.' It's like-"</p><p>Your enthusiastic unrequested lecture was effectively brought to a close by Sans leaning back with his eye-sockets closed, making exaggerated snoring noises.</p><p> </p><p>You needed to talk, and you needed to do it somewhere no one else could possibly hear. You had heard stories of monster-sympathizers getting spied on in their own homes, and God knows how many shifty government cameras and hidden microphones were hidden around town. You didn’t know how much you believed in the whole "Big Brother is watching you" paranoia, but it would still be better to make sure. The only place nearby you could think of that would definitely be safe was a giant empty dirt lot right outside of town.</p><p>You were almost there when a car suddenly cut you off and you had to slam on the brakes, jerking the skeleton in the passenger seat hard against the seatbelt.</p><p>"Fuck!" he snapped, "Can't you drive??"</p><p>You briefly considered commanding the skeleton to poke himself in the eye-socket, but successfully resisted the temptation. Instead you decided to ask about something that had been nagging at you.</p><p>"So... funny thing; the monster nurse who healed me at the hospital said someone had already healed me partway… Was that you?" </p><p>Sans scoffed dismissively. "Oh, please, you think I care about your dumb ass?" </p><p>"Oh… I guess it must have been some other monster. Whoever it was apparently sucks at healing; the doctor said that with the mess they made, I'll probably need surgery in the future to fix all the blood vessels that grew back in the wrong-"</p><p>"LOOK, healing is hard, okay?! It's not like I had a lot of time!"</p><p>"So it <em> was </em> you! Ha!" You shouted triumphantly.</p><p>"I should've let you fuckin' die," he muttered.</p><p>There were a couple minutes of awkward silence after that. When you finally spoke, it was in a more subdued tone.</p><p>"Thanks for not ...letting me die. The nurse said I wouldn't have survived. I kinda owe you my life."</p><p>"Tch," he scoffed, looking out the window. "Wh-whatever. Where are we going, anyway? Cause right now it looks like you're taking me outside city limits to kill me without witnesses and bury the dust."</p><p>"What?? Why would you even think that?"</p><p>He shrugged. "It's what I'd do."</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Sans had no fuckin' clue where he was. He'd never been to this part of town before; all he knew was that they had driven east until they were away from all the buildings and now they were somewhere outside of town. Y/N explained that they wanted to make sure nobody heard them talking. It was total overkill, but at least he had fun needling them about their driving on the way.</p><p>Finally, they pulled off the road.</p><p>"Sorry the car's such a mess," Y/N grumbled as they collected the trash from Burger Queen into a bag and threw it in the back where it landed amongst piles of empty soda cans and chip bags. "I need to clean this thing."</p><p>Sans gestured at the empty dirt lot they were parked in. He said in a cartoonishly dramatic accent, "Behold the field in which I grow my fucks, and see that it is barren."</p><p>That actually got a small giggle out of them. To his disgust, Sans caught himself grinning. He shook his head; scowling harder to make up for it.</p><p>"So," Y/N said, "We need to talk about what we're gonna do now. I think one of the first steps is disabling as many of the automatic commands on the collar as we can, and definitely making sure the shock-thing is off. I was thinking about it on the way over, and it might be a good solution to work around me accidentally giving commands if I set it to a different language. I'll set it to one I don't speak, and then there's no way to give commands even if I wanted to, which I absolutely don't."</p><p>"Careful now," Sans said sarcastically, "I wouldn't be a good charity case if I wasn't entirely at your mercy."</p><p>Y/N frowned. “Oh, c’mon, you know that’s not what this is. I'm not trying to help you because I want to have 'good karma' or to feel better myself. I genuinely care about what happens to you."</p><p>"Why?" he asked cynically. "What have I ever done for you?" </p><p>“Dude, you saved my life, like, two times already."</p><p>"Nah, that stuff wouldn’t’ve happened if it weren't for me. Freddy has a personal grudge against me; though pretty much everybody else does too. In fact, I don't think there's a single monster that likes me, anymore."</p><p>Before Y/N could respond with a question he definitely didn't want to answer, he continued, "Besides, you cared even before that. Hell, you tackled an old man for Chris'sake." He shook his head, grinning. "Funniest fuckin' thing I've ever seen."</p><p>"Oh, what, like you could have done anything better!" they said defensively. "Of course it looks easy looking back on it  while we’re sitting here in the car, but I only had a couple of seconds to react. He was gonna frickin’ hit you! And you know what? He was an asshole and deserved a good clobbering." They looked at their arm where the bite marks had mostly disappeared. "Besides, it's not like he didn't defend himself. I'm still worried I'm gonna get rabies or something."</p><p>They looked nervously at Sans. “He’s not a zombie, right?”</p><p>The skeleton snorted. "Nah. I was with the asshole pretty much 24/7 for the past month and never saw him come near any zombies or rabid squirrels. Couldn't do a damn thing for himself. Your legendary battle is the fastest I've ever seen him move."</p><p>Y/N rolled their eyes. "Yeah, yeah. They'll write about it in the history books, right next to the chapter on the fucked-up time period when humans enslaved monsters." </p><p>"You say that like you think it's gonna stop soon," he said skeptically.</p><p>Y/N shrugged. "I don't know. It'll probably take a lot of years, but eventually it has to change. People can't keep being <em> this </em> terrible forever. We’ve stopped doing slavery before and we’ll do it again, damnit!”</p><p>Sans scoffed. "You're so fuckin' naive it's annoying." He looked out the window. "Humans <em> and </em> monsters are never gonna stop bein' fuckin pricks to each other. The whole 'give people a second chance' thing is hippy-dippy bullshit. You think people can really change?"</p><p>He expected Y/N to get angry at that. Instead, they gently said, "Sans," to get his attention back from the window. They weren't frowning or smirking with some holier-than-thou look. they just looked… earnest. "That's not what I'm talking about. I think people can change, yes, but you're right- it is 'hippy-dippy bullshit' to expect them to."</p><p>Their annoying, patronizing attitude was starting to get on Sans’ nerves; but he was honestly curious about where they were going with this.</p><p>Y/N continued, "No one does bad things without a reason. People forget that when they're angry. We assume others act the way they do because of who they intrinsically are, but then when we judge our own actions, we blame the situation. It's called the ‘fundamental attribution error.’ For instance, say a co-worker missed a project deadline and now everybody else has to stay late to get it finished on time for the big client or whatever. 'Wow, Heinz is such an asshole,’ you think."</p><p>"Is this hypothetical, or…?" Sans asked.</p><p>Y/N waved their hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter; besides, his name wasn’t Heinz. But yeah, then if <em> you </em> miss a project deadline, you blame it on circumstance. You say 'Well I would have done it on time but blah-blah insert-excuse-here.' Maybe some unexpected stuff came up that week that was completely not your fault; like, for instance, you had to take your dog to the emergency vet at 2am because somehow they got on to the bathroom counter and ate a bunch of fancy-ass expensive cherry blossom soap you brought back from your trip to Japan. Then you had to take the same dimwit dog back to the same vet two nights later cause they ate a bunch of goddamn <em> sand </em> from the miniature zen-garden on your desk."</p><p>Sans snickered. "That's pretty damn specific. You sure it's just hypothetical?”</p><p>Y/N grinned and continued, "Oh yeah, <em> completely </em> hypothetical example. But hey! If you ever see a store selling mini-zen gardens, let me know; cause I do <em> not </em> want to explain to my mom what happened to the one she gave me." They giggled, then coughed and continued, "But anyway, my point is that it's inaccurate to judge a person for their actions without also considering the situation they were in."</p><p>Sans grunted. "Hm. So what, is everyone just excused all the time for doing bad shit cause they were in a bad situation?"</p><p>"No,” they said, looking thoughtful. “I still think there are 'bad people' in the world, and there should be consequences for what you do; but it's hypocritical to denounce someone for doing the same thing <em> you </em> would have in their situation. There's no 'good' or 'evil,' there's just… people; and you can't really judge fairly if you don't know what it was like to be them. There's this delusion everybody has that you'll never do the same bad things you hear about someone else doing because you're a better person than them. I realized that fact a long time ago and I started trying to look at myself with brutal honesty, even if it means admitting that I’d do stuff I’m ashamed of. Like, if I had to fight to protect the people I loved, I like to imagine that I'd find some hippy-dippy pacifistic way to save everyone. But truthfully, if it actually happened and it came down to life and death, I'd do whatever it took to keep my loved ones safe; even if it meant I had to do something <em> really </em> bad. Same goes for war. You can't blame people for defending themselves and their people. It's what anyone would do, but only some people ever actually have to make that choice. That part’s all luck of the draw."</p><p>Y/N looked at their lap, fiddling awkwardly with their fingers. "I think you know what I'm talking about, Sans."</p><p>He scowled and looked back out the window. "Yeah. You're not exactly subtle about it. Are you seriously telling me that you forgive monsters for what we did to humans?"</p><p>After a moment of thought, they replied, "I don't know, but I'd like to think that I <em> could </em>. What about you? Do you forgive humans?"</p><p>Sans suppressed an involuntary growl. Memories of the war came to mind. Losing everyone he ever cared about. <em> Hurting </em> everyone he ever cared about. The humiliation of being a fuckin' slave. The cruelty and abuse he and all the other monsters had suffered in the past seven years.</p><p>"No, I sure fuckin' can't," he ground out. "Guess you're just a better person than me, huh?"</p><p>"Oh, <em> please </em>, you think that’s a fair measure of if someone’s a good person? Of course you don’t forgive humans; that’s totally normal. I’m probably one of the only humans who doesn’t flat out hate monsters, either.”</p><p>"Nah, I’m a little worse than the average human." He grumbled. "Worse than the average monster, too.”</p><p>He held up a finger to cut off whatever Y/N was about to say. “And before you tell me I'm actually great and need to stop hating on myself, think about the file Chucklefuck showed you at the DMV. Numbers don’t lie."</p><p>He wiggled his finger bones in the air. "Surprised these are still white, honestly." He dropped his hands back into his lap and looked out the window at the dusty wasteland around them.</p><p>“<em> Damn, </em>that’s a raw sentence,” Y/N said appreciatively. “You could put that in a book or fanfic or something.”</p><p>“God, you’re one of those people, huh?”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But back to the raw dialogue; that sounds really dark, man. You’ve got some serious backstory. I’m not even gonna guess what terrible shit you must’ve lived through. I’m not a psychiatrist or anything, but it you wanna talk about it, I’m a pretty good listener, I think.”</p><p>Sans snorted. "<em> Fuck </em>, no."</p><p>“Oh, c’mon,” Y/N said pleadingly. “I’ve never had a friend with a dark, troubled past.”</p><p>“Look, <em> human </em>,” he said through clenched teeth, “this buddy-chum-pal-amigo-homeslice-breadslice-dawg thing you want to happen? It ain't happening. I ain't your fuckin' friend."</p><p>Y/N’s face fell. "Hey, can't blame me for trying,” they said meekly. Then they steeled themselves and looked at him with an aggressive smile. “But you know what? Whether you want it or not, I'm gonna be supportive as hell; and when the day comes that you realize you need a friend, you'll already have one." Y/N pumped their fist. </p><p>...Damn, Sans had to admit that wasn't a bad speech. <em> Unnnghhhh, </em> this whole conversation was putting him dangerously close to processing emotions he'd successfully repressed for years. It took him a moment to think of a way to avert that disaster.</p><p> "Well" he said, "I actually do have something you could help me with by talking."</p><p>Y/N brightened up at that, then gave him a suspicious look. "Oh?"</p><p>He grinned sardonically. "Yeah. Tell me something to make it easier for me to hate ya."</p><p>"...Huh," they said, looking thoughtful. "Like what?"</p><p>Sans waved his hand lazily through the air. "Anything. The worse, the better."</p><p>Y/N nibbled on their thumb as they considered it, and for a moment, his attention was entirely diverted. He wondered what that felt like. It was hard to imagine; skeletons didn't exactly have nibblible fingers.</p><p>"Okay," they said finally, "How about this? There's a bunch of questions I wanted to ask you that I haven't said out-loud because I figured it would make you mad. Will that work?"</p><p>Sans hadn't expected an actual, useful answer, but now he was curious. "Sure. Whadd'ya wanna know?"</p><p>Y/N nibbled on another finger and hummed. He wished they’d stop doing that. It looked fuckin’ gross.</p><p>"Alright, first question: How many people have you killed?"</p><p>"You talkin' humans or monsters?" he asked.</p><p>"Oh.. uh…" Y/N started nibbling on that damn thumb again. "Both, I guess."</p><p>He sighed. "You sure you want me to answer that?" </p><p>Y/N frowned. "No...probably not. I'm just gonna assume it's a lot."</p><p>He shrugged. "Honestly, I lost count."</p><p>"...That was during the war, right?" </p><p>"Mostly. The Underground wasn't exactly hospitable at the end, and I've managed to take out a few owners since then. Sometimes they've actually had me kill other humans for mafia and gang shit, which is pretty much as fun as bein' a slave gets." </p><p>Y/N nodded thoughtfully. They stared out the window for a bit before they spoke again. "...Hey, Sans?"</p><p>"Yeah?" he said, looking out his own window at the exceptionally disinteresting dirt lot.</p><p>"Could you... promise not to kill me?"</p><p>He turned around to face them, but they kept staring out the window. "The hell kinda thing is that to say??"</p><p>"I know you have every right to hate humans, me included, but…" Y/N turned to look at him and gave a tiny sniffle. Ah, fuck, were they gonna start crying again? Fuckin’ hell.</p><p>"Please, just… tell me you're not gonna kill me the moment you get the chance," they said, voice trembling slightly.</p><p>"Oh fer fuck'sake," Sans said, "Fine! I won't kill ya unless ya <em> reeeeally </em>piss me off, kay?"</p><p>Y/N shook their head. "Sans, I fuck up a <em> lot </em> . We’ve known each other for less than 48 hours and I’ve already pissed you off m <em> ultiple </em> times."</p><p>He groaned. "Yeah, and you’re still fuckin’ alive, aren’t you? I’m not gonna kill ya just for being an idiot, though I’ll admit I’ve been goddamn tempted."<br/>
Y/N wiped their eyes with a tissue and then dabbed at their nose. Sans didn’t even try to hide his disgusted grimace.</p><p>"Can you please just say it? 'I promise not to kill you, Y/N.' Please? Just… lie to me?"</p><p>"I don't lie when I make promises," he growled. "If I make a promise, I keep it. Besides," he pointed at the ring of plastic on his neck. "I've got a control collar, dumbshit. I can't kill you, even if I wanted to."</p><p>"That's a lie, and you know <em> I know </em> it's a lie!” they retorted. “Monsters get around collars all the time. You literally just told me that you've killed humans since the war; and that bear almost killed <em> me </em> yesterday!"</p><p><em> Damn it, Freddy. </em>He hated that fuckin’ bear. </p><p>"Listen," Sans said, dragging a hand down his face. "If it'll shut you up, I can tell you two specific commands that there's no way a monster can get around. Guaranteed safety. Capiche?"</p><p>"No," Y/N said stubbornly, "I'm not using that thing to control you."</p><p>Sans threw his arms up in exasperation. "Then yer a <em> fucking </em> idiot! I'm a murderer!"</p><p>"Everyone's a murderer!" Y/N shouted back, raising their arms as well.</p><p>"The fuck- no, they're not!"</p><p>Y/N gave him a sudden, hard stare. "What happened Underground, Sans?"</p><p>The question was so unexpected that he was temporarily at a loss for words. "What hap… the hell d'ya wanna know that for?"</p><p>Y/N's effort to sound tough was pathetically adorable. "What. Happened." </p><p>"A lotta shit happened, that's what. We came topside and brought the shit with us. Then we got the shit <em> beaten </em> out of us."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Cause you guys figured out how to use our own fucking magic against us."</p><p>"No, why did you guys <em> attack </em> us? No one knows why; it's one of the biggest unsolved mysteries. Even being ordered by the collars, no monster will talk about what happened Underground and why you didn't even <em> try </em> to make peace with humans when you came up."</p><p>"Because we can't!" Sans snapped. He smiled at their confused expression. "Guess what, dingus? The collars ain’t the only thing that can control a monster, and they're definitely not the oldest <em> or </em> the strongest. It's honestly been <em> fun </em> watching humans try to make monsters talk about it cause for once the collars don't work."</p><p>"But what if you're not actually commanded to say it? Like, if I ask you right now without it being a command."</p><p>Sans gave a sharp laugh. "Ha! You think humans haven't tried that? You can do anything you want to a monster- and oh, <em> they did </em> - but we won't talk about it because we <em> can't </em> talk about it, not even to other monsters. I'm surprised we're even allowed to remember it."</p><p>"Allowed?"</p><p>He made a dismissive gesture. "Eh, don't ask, cause I can't tell ya."</p><p>"Not even yes or no questions?" </p><p>"Nope. Like I said, they tried it all."</p><p>Y/N looked thoughtful, and Sans could practically hear the mismatched gears struggling to turn in their head. "...What about questions that aren't about what happened, but what happened because of it?"</p><p>Sans blinked. "Uh… it depends."</p><p>"Can I try?"</p><p>He shrugged. "Sure, why not?" </p><p>"Okay, did the thing cause the war?" </p><p>Sans thought for a moment, prodding at the resistance. "Nah. Can't say, it counts."</p><p>Y/N looked at him with suspicion. "You're just saying that, aren't you."</p><p>Sans growled, making them flinch a little. “Let's get one thing straight, okay? I don't lie. Period. But hey, if you don't believe me," he pointed at the collar on his neck, "just say the word and I've gotta tell the truth." </p><p>Y/N shook their head. "Okay, I believe you." They nibbled on that gross-ass finger again. "What if I ask instead… what was the happiest time in your life like?"</p><p>Huh. Memories of snowball fights and hamburgers came to mind; using echo flowers to talk to each other from opposite sides of the same room. Then there was that time he had told an especially bad joke to Papyrus while he was drinking chocolate milk and it came out of his nose when he laughed. That was probably when his lil' bro had started disliking puns. Thinking about it made Sans start to smile unconsciously. In fact, he was so preoccupied with whether or not he <em> could </em> say it that he didn't stop to think if he <em> should </em> say it. </p><p>"When Pap was little. We used to-" <em> Shit. </em>Sans looked at Y/N, preparing to deflect questions about his brother. For once, they were tactfully silent. They just waited eagerly for him to continue. </p><p>"The happiest part of my life was a long time ago, before everything got bad and the thing happened," he said.</p><p>Y/N tapped the steering wheel with their fingers. "So… when you were happy, were you an asshole? Like, did you beat people up or kill anybody?"</p><p>"What? No, I didn't kill anyone until we<em> GRNGH! </em>" Sans' words stopped like he'd run into a brick wall. It took him a moment to recover. "No. No killing when we were happy.”</p><p>"Okay, but was there ever a time you were happy to kill someone?"</p><p>"Yes," he answered easily. After a moment of silence he said, "Ya want me to elaborate, or…?"</p><p>Y/N shook their head. "No, I probably really don't. What about…. the first time you killed someone, was it because you wanted to or you had to?"</p><p>Sans didn't want to remember that day. "Had to," he answered quickly. </p><p>"Monster or human?"</p><p>"Monster, now move on."</p><p>"Okay. The <em> last </em> time you killed someone, did you do it because you wanted to or had to?"</p><p>Sans wanted to say "had to," but that wasn't true. The last human he had killed was the owner previous to the old man with the disgusting bunions, and there was no denying he did that because he <em> wanted </em> to. And he did <em> not </em> do it quickly, either. </p><p>"Wanted."</p><p>Y/N didn't look surprised. "I'm guessing that was one of your owners, right?"</p><p>"Yup. Real piece of work. I don't feel like talking about it and you <em> definitely </em> don't wanna hear about it, so move on."</p><p>"Yeah, that's probably for the best." Y/N nibbled on that <em> goddamn finger again. </em>"Okay; have you ever killed someone for absolutely no reason?"</p><p>Sans frowned. "Whadd'ya mean?"</p><p>"Like, just randomly picked someone you'd never met, who had never done anything to hurt you or the people you loved- human or monster- and killed them solely because it was pleasurable to do so and no other reason?"</p><p>"Holy fuck, do I really come across as that much of a psycho? Of course I had always had a fucking reason."</p><p>Y/N tried and failed to completely repress a smug smile, clearly struggling to resist saying '<em> See? Told you so.' </em></p><p>Sans scowled. "Next question."</p><p>"Okay. Even if you had a reason, have you ever killed when it wasn't justified?"</p><p>Memories of terrified civilians rose unbidden to his mind. </p><p>
  <em> They weren't even trying to fight back. </em>
</p><p>"...Yes."</p><p>"You hesitated. Is that because you feel bad about it?"</p><p><em> He couldn't sleep. </em> </p><p>"I feel…awful."</p><p>"Did you want to do it?" </p><p>
  <em> It was so much fun.  </em>
</p><p>"At the time…yes"</p><p>"So not anymore? Why, what changed?"</p><p>Because of the thing. He shook his head. Y/N seemed to understand what he meant, but looked suspicious. Sans had a bad feeling about what they were going to ask next.</p><p>"At the DMV, Chunky, or whatever the hell his name was, said your collar was first gen. So does that mean you got captured early in the war? Like, when they first started using the collars?”</p><p>Sans eyes flickered out like candlelights. </p><p><em> He’d thought they’d torture him… but what happened was </em> <b> <em>so much worse.</em> </b></p><p>"Do you honestly think I want to talk about that?" he snarled. He didn’t want to remember this; he really, <em> really </em>didn’t want to remember this.</p><p>
  <em> There was so much dust. He couldn't stop. Why couldn't he stop?! </em>
</p><p>Surprisingly, Y/N didn't let it drop. "No; you wanted me to piss you off by asking invasive questions!” they said angrily. “Well here's a really insensitive one: you said you’ve killed both, but which one have you killed more? Humans or monsters?"<br/>
He didn’t want to answer that. He wasn’t even sure what the answer was; though if he had to guess...</p><p>
  <em> Get away from me, Pap. </em>
</p><p>Sans wanted to argue; say that he didn’t owe them any information about what he’d done. But he just felt… tired. After a moment, he gave a weak, defeated laugh. "Heh… you know, we had a saying Underground. 'Every time you kill, it becomes easier to kill again.'” He stared at his hands, lying limp in his lap. “I've…."</p><p><em> Was it ever his choice? </em> <b> <em>Ever?</em> </b></p><p>"...I've killed a lot of humans, Y/N," he almost whispered.</p><p>
  <em> All of ‘em, even the small ones. </em>
</p><p>He shut his eyes. "And...a <em> lot </em> of monsters." </p><p>
  <em> Everyone was going to die because of him. </em>
</p><p><em> " </em>Sans."</p><p>
  <em> He fucked up so bad, and now everyone was gonna die. </em>
</p><p>"Sans, c’mon, man, you’ve gotta stop; you’re spiraling.”</p><p>
  <em> It was all his fault. He should’ve never let himself get taken alive. </em>
</p><p>"SANS!"</p><p>"What?!" Sans screamed; or at least, he tried to scream. What came out was more akin to an angry sob.</p><p>He opened his eyes to see Y/N looking at him, worriedly. "Dude, you're crying."</p><p>Sans blinked. He touched a cheekbone and felt wetness. His finger came away stained with translucent red liquid.</p><p>"You… you <em> are </em> crying, right?" Y/N asked. "Cause there's red stuff coming out of your eyes and if it's not tears, we should probably call an exorcist or somethi-"</p><p>"YEAH, I'M FUCKIN' CRYING!" Sans yelled angrily between sobs. "FUCK! THIS IS WHY YER NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT FEELINGS! WHAT A FUCKIN' TROPE!" The skeleton curled himself into a ball as tight as he could, hugging his knees to his chest.</p><p>"I'm-I'm so sorry, man. I didn’t meant to-"</p><p>"Shuddup and make it stop!"</p><p>"...You mean, with a command?"</p><p>"No shit!"</p><p>Y/N wrinkled their nose in disgust. "That's a thing? People really command monsters to stop crying?" </p><p>"All the fuckin' time! Hurry up!"</p><p>Y/N folded their arms. "I'm not doing it, Sans."</p><p>He glared at them, vision swimming. "Are you gonna make me fuckin' beg?! Just say 'stop!' "</p><p>"It’s fucked-up and I’m not doing it."</p><p>Sans uncurled enough to scream, "Well, then get the fuck out, ya useless prick!"</p><p>“Dude, I- my ankle’s jacked-up; I can’t walk.”</p><p>He looked them dead in the eyes. “Then sit on the <b>fuckin’ ground.</b>”</p><p>Without further protest, Y/N opened the car door and hobbled out, leaving Sans alone with no escape from himself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Eh? :D What'd ya think? Too cryptic? Not cryptic at all?<br/>I know I said I had a plan for where this story was going, but... this is as far as that plan went. I have no idea what the characters are gonna do now. So, I'm putting the choice to you guys! If you were in Reader's shoes (new owner of a <i>bone</i>fide-tsundere monster slave) what would you do?<br/><br/><i>bonus: there's a line in this that I <b>absolutely</b> stole right outta <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348839/">Songfell</a>. Can you find it?</i></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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